


the very souls that look alike

by LeftPawedPolarBear



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, Lilshotgun, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Shannary, at least i hope it is, but mostly character exploration, i tried really really hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26019994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeftPawedPolarBear/pseuds/LeftPawedPolarBear
Summary: The hand on her calf retracts, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake despite the warmth of her habit. Lilith senses movement beside her and forces herself to look up. Mary is standing now. Her arms are crossed, and her guns are holstered at each hip. Her shirt is torn at the left shoulder and one eye is rapidly swelling shut. She is tired and wounded. She is magnificent.“Lilith,” and her tone saysback off.A proper LilShotgun reunion and confrontation. Post-finale, with pre-S1 flashbacks. Canon compliant.
Relationships: Shotgun Mary/Shannon Masters, Sister Lilith/Shotgun Mary (Warrior Nun)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 55





	the very souls that look alike

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skillzyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skillzyo/gifts).



> My most heartfelt thanks to skillz for inspiring this whole mess, and to suits for betaing it <3
> 
> Title is a lyric from The Curse by Agnes Obel

_Shotgun Mary finds Sister Lilith sitting on a rock, staring at her hands, hair falling in a gray curtain around her face. As she approaches, Mary glances down and sees ten human fingers, long and slim, fingernails trimmed. Lilith’s hands._

_Lilith clears her throat but doesn’t look up. “Ava?” she asks._

_“Still out,” Mary says, “but Beatrice and Camila are on watch. She’ll be safe until the Halo recharges enough for her to wake up.”_

_“Adriel?”_

_“No sign since the Vatican,” Mary says as she sits on the ground beside and slightly below Lilith, groaning quietly as a large bruise makes contact with a tree root. From this angle, she can see Lilith’s face through her hair. Her eyes are still glued to her hands._

_Mary gives her more time. Then, “Lilith?” she asks, her voice weary and gentle, “If I ask you what you’re thinking about right now, will you tell me?”_

_Lilith’s shoulders begin to tremble, and Mary reaches out to rest a hand on Lilith’s calf over her skirts. Mary has seen Lilith battered and bruised, tired and ill, has carried her off of battlefields after watching her take down three wraiths single-handedly. Until now, Mary has never seen her cry._

_When Lilith speaks, there is a lifetime of fear and sorrow in her voice._

_“It’ll never accept me now, will it?”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  


The young woman who will become Sister Lilith joins the Order of the Cruciform Sword when she is eighteen years old. Her parents are willing to let her attend university first, but why delay destiny? The OCS can offer her opportunities to continue her education, and which university would prepare her to be Halo-bearer?

Another person might have found Lilith’s upbringing inhibiting. Lilith finds it gloriously liberating. She has the priceless luxury of purpose, and she has it in spades. Everything she does is in service of God and every accomplishment brings her one step closer to the Halo. To have faith in God is to have faith in herself. To have faith in herself is to have faith in God.

She’s prepared to be the sole wunderkind when she arrives at the Cat’s Cradle—only the most promising recruits are sent directly to OCS headquarters—and is frustrated to discover she will be joined in her novitiate by the girl who will become Sister Beatrice: intelligent, skilled, aloof, and only sixteen.

Sister Beatrice continues to be frustrating for the duration of their novitiate. She is fluent in too many languages, proficient in too many martial arts, too unwilling to be caught up in the mind games Lilith plays with the other novices to maintain her edge. Most frustrating of all, Lilith has been trained to despise incompetency above all else, and the one thing Beatrice is not is incompetent.

Eventually, Beatrice’s fate is decided in Lilith’s eyes when she realizes Beatrice does not want the Halo. Still only nineteen, still half a year away from her vows, Lilith doesn’t believe it at first, can’t understand it. Why would someone with Beatrice’s potential and apparent ambition join the OCS and _not_ position herself to be in line for the Halo?

But a year into their novitiate, Lilith knows Beatrice does not lie, and when, huddled in a circle with the other novices after Compline, one asks Beatrice if she thinks the Halo would ever choose her, Beatrice answers simply “No.”

It’s not false modesty; Beatrice may soon be a nun, and she may already possess a nun’s humility, but she is also a warrior, and a capable warrior lives or dies by the strength of her self-confidence. And so, decides Lilith, she must be telling the truth. For reasons Lilith, in spite of herself, cannot fathom, Beatrice believes the Halo would never accept her. So Lilith relaxes, ever so slightly.

When they take their vows side-by-side, Lilith decides that if she can’t love Beatrice, and she can’t hate her, she can at least respect her. And perhaps, eventually, grow to like her.

But she won’t hold her breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_The hand on Lilith’s calf squeezes and for a moment Lilith feels a little more rooted, a little more human, and a little less like she’s drowning. “Honey,” she hears Mary say and has to bite back a sob, “nothing on God’s green Earth could be_ less _important right now. We don’t even know what that thing_ is _anymore!”_

_Lilith shakes her head, still can’t bring herself to look Mary in the eye. “I know you’ve never really understood what the Halo means to me, Mary. I know I’ve never been able to explain it properly, and I know my commitments to the OCS have always been different than yours.”_

_The hand on her calf retracts, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake despite the warmth of her habit. Lilith senses movement beside her and forces herself to look up. Mary is standing now. Her arms are crossed, and her guns are holstered at each hip. Her shirt is torn at the left shoulder and one eye is rapidly swelling shut. She is tired and wounded. She is magnificent._

_“Lilith,” and her tone says_ back off _, “there may be some—_ a lot _of things I don’t understand about all_ this— _” she gestures vaguely towards Lilith, “—but you know my commitments to the OCS are every bit as strong as yours. I didn’t take your vows, but I made your choices. And I keep making them every damn day.”_

_For a moment, the air hangs heavy between them. Then Lilith gasps and the tension breaks. “Oh_ Mary _,” she breathes, “Father Vincent—I’m so sorry—”_

_“_ Don’t _,” Mary hisses, “_ don’t _say that motherfucking traitor’s name.” Her fists are clenched and her eyes are shining and she turns away before Lilith can say another word._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Mary_ isn’t the name on her birth certificate. But the name printed on that document was given to her by her father, and at sixteen she finally realizes her string of less-than-amicable breakups with foster parents may have been connected to the sound of that name dropping from their lips in pity, or indifference, or disgust. A few days later she’s struggling to stay awake in a schoolwide assembly and her eyes come to rest on the painting of the Madonna and Child hanging on the wall behind the dais. An idea forms, and she smiles.

The Sisters don’t start calling her Mary simply because she decided one day to poke fun at the Blessed Mother by changing her name—a gross injustice, Mary thinks, seeing as the _Sisters_ were allowed to choose new names for themselves and no one ever questioned _them_. So her Christian name keeps falling from impatient Christian lips and Mary’s fists keep finding jaws until one day, in her fourth year of boarding school (no way in hell is she going to graduate, but her eighteenth birthday is just weeks away and she knows this place won’t keep her around once she’s a legal adult) a priest changes her life.

He’s sitting on a bench beside the main building when Mary comes out of detention, gingerly holding a bag of mostly melted ice up to her eye.

“They tell me you go by Mary,” he says as she strides past. It’s enough to stop her in her tracks.

“Who the hell is _they_?” she asks brusquely. “Not Sister Barbara, that’s for sure.”

“No, no.” The priest smiles serenely. “Your classmates. They tell me calling you _Mary_ is one of the only ways to avoid a beatdown.”

Mary suddenly feels a twinge of contrition. She doesn’t know why—men of the cloth rarely elicit remorse. “Yeah, Mary’s fine,” she mumbles.

“Let me ask you something, Mary. Where did you learn to fight?”

For the second time in as many minutes, Mary is caught off guard. “No offense, Father”—and she’s surprised to find she means it—“but I don’t think that’s the kind of question you’re supposed to be asking me.”

The priest inclines his head. “Ordinarily, you would be correct. But my reasons for being here are not ordinary.” He waits expectantly.

Mary hears herself answer. “My mom. When I still lived with her, she taught me to defend myself.”

“Where is she now?”

_Locked up_ , she thinks. “Gone,” she says.

The priest stands. “Mary, my name is Father Vincent,” he says, “and I’d like to make you a proposition.”

Mary stares. He’s a stranger. She can’t imagine what he could possibly offer her. He’s a priest.

She’s staring down the barrel of her eighteenth birthday.

She’s tired.

He called her Mary.

***

Father Vincent doesn’t take Mary to the Cat’s Cradle right away. She goes through the basic training at a convent in Portugal. She learns to bite back curses in cathedrals. She discovers her favorite weapons, and more of her name.

_Mary_ tasted like relief. _Shotgun Mary_ tastes like purpose.

Father Vincent visits regularly. Each time, she demands that he take her with him back to headquarters.

“What good am I out here in the boonies? There isn’t enough Divinium to go around and we get our asses kicked by just _one_ wraith.”

Father Vincent chuckles. “Then it’s a good thing you’re around to help!”

Mary doesn’t want her ego stroked. She wants what she was promised. “I’ve done my training,” she insists, “I’ve broken in my guns on these grade school missions. I wanna fight alongside the Halo and do some real damage!”

“Mary, do you know why the postulancy and novitiate are standard practice in religious orders?”

“So you can weed out the weak ones? So the culture shock doesn’t kill you? I’ve been watching these girls for a while now, I’m pretty sure it would kill _me_.”

“Well, yes…and yes…and no. It’s true that even some of the most devout cannot handle certain elements of monastic life. The structure of our days is not conducive to all expressions of faith. And yes, it can be beneficial to ease into the customs of the convent, without the added pressure of vows. But most important of all, Mary, is the _choice_ these periods offer. Without vows to bind you in place, there is only the freedom to choose to stay. You need to choose, too, Mary.”

“I thought I already did that when I crossed the Atlantic-fucking-Ocean with you.”

“In some ways you did, yes. Our postulants and novitiates feel the same. Yet some still leave. And we welcome their departure, because for them to remain would be incalculably worse.”

She doesn’t leave. And three years after Father Vincent first called her Mary, she arrives at the Cat’s Cradle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_“You’re right, Mary, about your choices. Of course you’re right. And Mary?” Behind her, Lilith’s voice is uncharacteristically tentative and Mary’s heart gives a tug as she glances over her shoulder. “I don’t know if you want to hear this, or if it will make everything worse, but I’d—I’d really like to apologize for the pier. And the ferry. And—”_

_Mary knows that, in spite of everything, this must be doing a number on her pride, but she can’t let her finish. “Hey, Lilith?” she interrupts, “if we’re gonna have it out, then we’re gonna have it out. It just didn’t really seem like you were in the_ mood _to talk about—”_

_“I’m not. I wasn’t. But we don’t know what’s about to happen to us—”_ I don’t know what’s happening to me _, Mary hears, “—so we can’t afford to wait for the mood to strike us.”_

_After all these years, Mary’s rage against Lilith is practiced. She can call upon it at will and unleash it with unerring accuracy._ The argument they’re about to have _, she realizes,_ is the same argument they’ve always had _. Lilith is watching her, bright eyes framed by her strange, silvery, beautiful hair. Mary can’t remember ever seeing so much of Lilith’s hair before today._

_Mary doesn’t want to have this argument today, but she wants Lilith to have what she needs. “You betrayed us,” she hears herself say, “You betrayed_ me _.”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Mary braces herself for the badgering she assumes will accompany her arrival at OCS headquarters. As far as she knows, her situation within the organization is entirely unique, and although the sisters with whom she parted in Portugal had become dear friends and trusted comrades, it took the better part of two years to earn their trust and understanding.

But Shotgun Mary’s novelty is overshadowed by the arrival of another sister warrior from a branch of the OCS in southern France. It’s not unheard of for a sister to jump to the front of the line of succession before ever setting foot in the Cat’s Cradle—Father Vincent, Mother Superion, and the Warrior Nun are sent regular aptitude reports on all sisters in all branches of the OCS—but it is a rare enough occurrence that the newly named Next-in-Line steals any attention that may have been directed at Mary, twice over. It allows Mary time to find her footing in Andalusia and secure her place in the ranks of the Cat’s Cradle sister warriors, the _crème de la crème_ of the Order of the Cruciform Sword.

It is the first of many gifts given to Shotgun Mary by Sister Shannon.

***

As their first six months as professed nuns—and their second full year in the OCS—draw to an end, Sister Beatrice and Sister Lilith are friendly, if not close. Beatrice is simply too capable to garner Lilith’s disdain, and Lilith is already too clearly in line for the Halo for Beatrice, ever the strategist, to make an enemy of her. They have a mutual understanding—a mostly compatible set of priorities as loyal sister warriors. They’re like two puzzle pieces that touch along the diagonal: parts of the same bigger picture, with no substantial connection.

Somehow, Mary’s arrival is the missing piece that connects them.

Not at first, of course. Lilith and Mary mix like oil and water and erupt like baking soda and vinegar. Lilith is taken aback by the paltry respect Mary tosses her way. Mary is frustrated by Lilith’s inflated ego and stubborn refusal to accept her as a true sister warrior. Neither realizes they are both angry for the same reason in different shades: Lilith questions Mary’s loyalty to the OCS, and Mary questions Lilith’s to her sisters.

They dance around each other, guard up, until one day after a mission debrief Beatrice pulls them both aside and says, “You’re already the deadliest pair on every assignment. You might be even more effective if you actually talked to one another.”

Sister Lilith saves Shotgun Mary’s life for the very first time on their next mission. “One—love” she says, putting a bit too much stress on _love_ , lips quirking into a slight smile as she pulls Mary to her feet. 

Mary, still breathing hard, grunts and delivers a half-hearted shove to Lilith’s shoulder with the hand not holding a shotgun. “I hate tennis,” she grumbles. Lillith raises her eyebrows and Mary suddenly realizes she’s looking at a white flag, of sorts. Well. If Lilith is offering, to refuse would be tantamount to losing before the game is played.

Mary saves Lilith’s life for the first time twenty minutes later, and they reach an unspoken accord.

***

Sister Lilith. Shotgun Mary. And Sister Beatrice makes three. Mary respects Beatrice’s steadfast loyalty from the outset, and appreciates the security she feels on Beatrice’s six in battle. With Mary now in her life, Lilith grows to appreciate the quiet balance Beatrice offers to Mary’s bold competitiveness. When Lilith wants an audience (and she often does), she spars with Mary. When she wants sore muscles and a list of skills to improve, she spars with Beatrice.

Beatrice is so generous with her time and her comforting smile whenever new recruits arrive that it takes Mary months to understand why she is not at all times surrounded by friends. When Mary learns, as Lilith did years ago, that Beatrice will not tell a lie, she decides to ask.

“I’m grateful for the kindness the other sisters have always shown me,” Beatrice replies, looking up from the shurikens she is polishing, “and I am honored to have the opportunity to earn their respect.”

Mary brushes this aside. “Not what I asked, Bea. I’ve been with the OCS almost four years now; I know nuns are allowed to enjoy each other’s company. What gives?”

“Everything I have that is worth giving, I must give to God.”

“That’s an impossible task,” Mary says impatiently, “and I think you know it. You’re here in service of God, I get it. Everything you do is about faith. Fine. But while you’re self-flagellating, or whatever, you’re also out there saving lives! Not to mention you’re in here making the rest of _our_ lives a hell of a lot easier.”

Beatrice, ordinarily calm and steady, fidgets with a blade, and Mary knows she is pushing, maybe too hard. “I do my duty, and I try to do it well.”

Mary takes a deep breath. Beatrice is not Lilith. This conversation requires delicacy. 

“You’ve got a past. We all do. But secrets don’t stop you from kicking ass on assignment, or helping Sister Margaret with her crossbow aim. And they certainly can’t stop you from laughing at my _fabulous_ impression of Lilith.” 

She bumps Beatrice’s arm with her elbow. Beatrice chuckles. “It _is_ an awfully good impression.”

“Beatrice,” Mary says, “we don’t have to do the things we do here for the same reasons. And the last thing I want is for you to tell me something you’re not ready to tell me. All I’m saying is the parts of you that you’ve already shared are more than enough.”

And so the three—Mary, Lilith, Beatrice—spar together, fight together, occasionally they eat and joke together, and Beatrice learns that real friendship need not always be forged in the crucible of shared secrets if the warm fires of simple kindness are more appealing. A diligent student through and through, Beatrice takes the lesson to heart, and, when the wheel of time turns and the new Halo-bearer ascends, Mary is privately overjoyed to see Beatrice offer her kindness to Sister Shannon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Her instinct is to protest, of course, but Lilith doesn’t want to fall into their familiar pattern. It may be too little too late, but she wants to try to cut a new path. “When the Cardinal came to me,” she says slowly, choosing her words carefully, “I thought I had been given a chance to prove myself, once and for all. To Duretti, to Father Vincent, to Mother Superion. To my sisters_ **_(_** to you ** _)_** _, too.”_

_Mary shakes her head. Lilith thinks she looks a bit defeated. “Do you have any idea what it feels like,” Mary says, “when every bit of your heart and gut wants you to trust someone, and your mind_ still can’t do it _?”_

_She lets out an exasperated huff. “I mean for the love of_ God _, Lilith, why does everything always need to be about_ you _?”_

_Lilith’s hands move compulsively to her stomach and she laughs humorlessly. “Believe me,” she murmurs, “I’ve been given ample cause to regret it.”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Even as Mary and Lilith and Beatrice find their way to each other, Mary finds herself drawn to the regal, reticent, newly anointed heiress to the Halo. Though they’ve both been in the Order for years, they are Cat’s Cradle neophytes. And where other sisters seem content to whisper behind Shannon’s back and Shannon seems content to let them, Mary sees a potential camaraderie in the ways their journeys have aligned.

Shannon is older (though still far too young) and more battle-hardened than most of the sisters. She has been in the Order long enough to accept Mary’s unique circumstances with little more than a raised eyebrow. Like Mary, she is familiar with the frustrating scarcity of Divinium in the satellite branches of the OCS. Like all the sisters, Shannon’s past led her to the OCS, and, like all the sisters, she has found new purpose there.

The first time Mary discovers her shotgun shells have been replaced with Christmas crackers, she suspects everyone from Lilith to Father Vincent before Shannon confesses. Mary collects the prizes and chases her around the archery range, pelting her with small plastic figurines and bouncy balls. The first time Shannon laughs at a slightly dirty joke Mary mutters under her breath during mass, Mary looks up, shocked, before bursting into laughter herself, earning a rap on the knuckles from Mother Superion. From then on, instead of risking the wrath of Mother Superion with whispered wisecracks, Mary writes them down on scraps of paper and slips them under Shannon’s pillow during Vespers. Shannon thanks her with sketches of Cat’s Cradle and its caretakers: Father Vincent staring out over the hills; Mother Superion resting her cane across her knees; Lilith facing off against Mary on the sparring mat; Mary cleaning her shotguns; Mary astride her motorcycle; Mary dozing beneath a carob tree.

Mary thinks she understands the reasons why Shannon has been chosen to bear the Halo, because they must be all of the same reasons Mary admires her, trusts her, loves her so much and so deeply that her face is the last image in her mind before she falls asleep each night and her name is her first thought when she wakes up each morning. Then she dismisses this idea, decides the Order must make different calculations, because she can’t think about anyone else knowing Shannon the way she does.

Mary sees Lilith watching them, first occasionally, then much more often after Shannon becomes Warrior Nun. She tries desperately and in vain not to think about the calculations running through _her_ head. Lilith and Mary are friends now, but Lilith is also the new Next-In-Line, and Mary can’t help but see with fresh eyes the morbidity in that title with the Halo now nestled between Shannon’s ribs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Mary’s expression softens immediately. “Of course you have,” she breathes. She kneels at Lilith’s side and their eyes meet on the level for the first time all night. “Camila mentioned something about...” Mary’s hand brushes Lilith’s habit, “...but the way she described it—she must have been leaning into the drama. Right?”_

_“I doubt it,” Lilith replies, shuddering at the memory, “it looked like what it was, and it was a stab wound six inches in diameter. But...it’s also gone now. Peeled away.”_

_“_ Gone _?”_

_Lilith doesn’t blame Mary for doubting her. She unfastens the front of her habit and bares her stomach. “Like it was never there,” she says._

_Lilith sees scarred knuckles and calloused palms, but the hands she feels caress the spot where the wound used to be are gentle and warm. Mary’s hands. Lilith holds her breath. “Gone…” Mary whispers again._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  


The sixth time Lilith saves Mary’s life doesn’t feel any different than the five times prior, but Mary won’t speak to Lilith for days afterward and Lilith doesn’t know why.

Following the battle, Lilith wakes up in the infirmary with Sister Shannon in the next bed over, looking wane but already mostly recovered from whatever injury she’d sustained—Lilith doesn’t remember Shannon going down, but the wound must have been fairly serious to send a Halo-bearer to the infirmary for overnight recovery. Looking over and seeing Lilith awake, Shannon smiles and reaches a hand across the aisle between their beds. Lilith grasps it.

“Pleased to see you awake and alert again, Sister Lilith,” Shannon says. “I can’t have my next in line stuck in the infirmary while her sisters need her in the field.”

“The mission was a success, I take it?” Lilith asks.

“According to Mary, yes, but you’ll have to ask her for the details.”

“And you…are…” Lilith hesitates. Small talk is not her strength, and small talk with the Warrior Nun is never just small talk.

Sister Shannon gives her hand a squeeze. “Never better. I would have left this morning, but Mary’s orders were to stay put. You know how she can be.” Shannon chuckles and Lilith feels a twinge in her stomach. “I’ve learned to pick my battles.” Lilith wonders if she suffered a now-forgotten kick to the abdomen in the altercation.

Mary is heading towards the infirmary as Lilith leaves. She walks past Lilith without a word and makes a beeline for Shannon’s bed. Still a bit dazed, Lilith doesn’t call after her. They’ll have time to discuss the battle at dinner.

Except Mary continues to ignore her.

Lilith finally corners her in the corridor outside Father Vincent’s office a week after the mission. The lump on the back of her head is still tender and the gash above her eye from the wraith victim’s switchblade is beginning to itch as it heals—Lilith fights the urge to scratch it. _Why does every numbskull in Spain think he needs to walk around armed these days?_

“Mary” she says as the door to Father Vincent’s office creaks open. Mary looks up. Lilith half-expects a quip about how long she must have been waiting, but Mary nods curtly, turns on her heel, and strides away without a word, and Lilith remembers why she’s been working so hard to track her down in the first place.

“Mary!” Lilith’s long legs close the distance between them. She sees Mary stop, and, with resignation in the contours of her shoulders, turn to face Lilith. She still has not spoken.

Lilith does a quick mental calculation and decides to attempt humor. It’s a skill she’s still honing, under Mary’s tutelage, and she hopes Mary will be mollified by an attempt to meet her on her home turf. “Must I really suffer the silent treatment until you have an opportunity to even the score on our next assignment?”

Lilith thinks she spots the shadow of a smile around the corners of Mary’s lips, but she must be imagining it because Mary just sighs. “Can we be done here?”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, you know. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the time I was pushed off of the pier by a possessed fisherman. I was tangled in nets and covered in fish guts by the time Beatrice hauled me back up! Of course, that was only my second mi—”

“Lilith, shut your goddamn mouth before I shut it for you.”

Lilith’s mouth snaps closed, more out of surprise than any inclination to heed Mary’s words. This isn’t the first or even the fiftieth time Mary has lashed out at her. But Lilith has always been able to anticipate the outbursts, the same way she can always read Mary’s next moves in combat training. She knows where they stand. She knows which affinities unite them, and which disagreements will always haunt them.

She thought she knew.

In a rare gesture of supplication (because this is _Mary_ , and besides, no one else is around to see) Lilith holds up her hands, palms forward. “Mary, please. It’s not—I’m not—I’m perfectly capable of requesting gratitude when I feel I deserve it, but—”

Mary scoffs. “ _Gratitude_ , huh? That’s what you think you deserve? Jesus, Lilith, if I told Mother Superion what I saw, you’d be kicked out of the OCS!”

“What you saw?”

“ _You turned your back on Shannon_ , Lilith. She was in _danger_ , dammit, she was _vulnerable_ , and you ignored her. You were going to let her die, Lilith, because let’s face it, you’ve been praying for that day to come since she first got the Halo.”

Once again, Lilith is speechless. She thinks back to the battle. A swarm—fifteen, maybe twenty wraiths. Shannon would have been able to say for certain, but the winding alleyways had separated her from the group in the initial onslaught. An unfortunate error and a bad omen—the sister warriors were blind without the Warrior Nun, and a Warrior Nun fighting alone was forced to be much more reliant on the Halo, draining its energy reserves.

When they finally regrouped, six violent exorcisms and nearly thirty minutes later, Lilith had given Shannon a quick visual appraisal: a bit pale, her reflexes slowed to the point that the difference was only barely perceptible to Lilith’s trained eye. She deemed her more than fit to see out the rest of the encounter.

Mary conducted her own assessment. “You good, Shannon?” she yelled from behind Lilith.

“I’m fine. Focus, Mary! Four o’clock and eight o’clock!”

Mary turned to engage, shotguns at the ready. This swarm had been a stubborn bunch, and attempts to reason with the wraiths had not gone well. Come morning, the village would be quiet again, but it would not be whole.

With nuns and wraiths clashing all around her, Lilith withdrew slightly, every sense on high alert, waiting to provide reinforcements wherever needed. She saw Mary dispatch the two wraiths on either side of her. Saw Mary turn to shout at Shannon again. Saw her eyes go wide at something behind Lilith. Saw the third wraith sneak up behind Mary, face contorted in a savage snarl, switchblade drawn, and then Lilith was moving, acting on pure instinct, arms and shoulders connecting with Mary’s torso, pushing her out of the way and then _pain_ , searing pain just above her left eye as she kicked upwards will all her might—

And then the world went black.

“You really just couldn’t wait another day, huh? I swear, Lilith, every time I start to think you may actually have a heart, you turn right around and set me straight.”

“But I _don’t_ have the Halo!” Lilith protests, still in disbelief, “Shannon’s perfectly fine! And if I hadn’t done what I did, _you_ wouldn’t be standing here.”

“You think I buy that for one second?” There’s venom in Mary’s voice now. “She had _five_ wraiths crawling all over her, and you didn’t so much as glance in her direction. We’re _nothing_ without her, Lilith, and you just. don’t. care.”

Lilith wants to protest, to defend herself. But she is finding it difficult to argue her case when she can’t explain her own actions. She does want the Halo, and badly. Badly enough to hold her sisters at arms’ length (most of them, at any rate). Badly enough to rise before dawn to train and stay up late into the night to study. Badly enough to volunteer for the most dangerous assignments on missions to prove herself. Badly enough to sacrifice Shannon to creatures from Hell? _Deliberately?_ Never.

_So why had she protected Mary and not Shannon?_

Having said her piece, Mary seems perfectly content to let Lilith wrestle her demons alone. Trying to avoid meeting her glare, Lilith instead watches Mary out of the corner of her eye. She wonders how it must feel to come from so little and painstakingly cultivate that much self-assurance out of pure grit and resilience. She wonders if Mary knows she’s the only sister warrior Lilith looks up to.

She wonders why one day it feels like they could each be the most important person in the other’s life and the next day they have to be held back from each other’s throats.

She wonders what Mary sees in Shannon that she, Lilith, doesn’t have.

“Mary,” Lilith whispers, “I wish I could explain what happened in a way that would convince you I’m not this person you think I am. But I don't know how. So what can I do?” She rests a hesitant hand on Mary’s shoulder. “Tell me, please.” 

Mary stiffens, but she doesn’t knock the hand away. “I don’t know. I think you can start by promising me you’ve got Shannon’s back. In this life or the next.”

“I do. It’s my duty to protect her. In this life or the next.” _But you can’t stop me from protecting you, too._

Mary holds her gaze. “And you’ve gotta show me, Lilith. You’ve gotta walk the damn walk, every minute of every day. Or you and me? We’re done in _this_ life, never mind the next.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Mary takes her hands away. Lilith re-fastens her habit._

This is stupid _, Mary realizes, suddenly._ This has always been completely stupid _. “You’re an idiot,” she says casually._

_“I—what?” Lilith stutters._

_“You’re an idiot,” Mary repeats, and adds, “and I’m an idiot, too. We’re two fools who have been talking in circles around each other for five years because neither one of us can accept the fact that we’re on the same damn side.”_

_Lilith shakes her head. “That makes no sense, Mary. I tried to kill Ava. I hurt you. Everything you’ve ever said about me is true...” Her voice quivers. “And now I’ve got the claws to prove it.”_

_Mary takes her hands. No claws right now. Just Lilith’s hands. “You tried to kill Ava for the same reason I tried to stop you. You hurt me for the same reason I hurt you. The world is burning, and we’re both just trying to put out fires any way we can. That’s all we’ve ever tried to do.”_

_“And Lilith,” Mary presses Lilith’s hands to her own chest and holds them tight, “those claws prove that when things come down to the wire, you choose the right path. Not heartless. A hero. These are the hands of someone worthy.”_

_“I know you’ve always doubted my motives, Mary, but that’s truly all I’ve ever wanted. To be worthy.”_

_“I wondered, before. I know now. I did say I’m an idiot, too.” She pauses. “And I’m sorry.”_

_Mary gives Lilith a tug and she falls against her chest the same way she did all those many hours ago in the tomb. The early morning hours are cool and the sky is beginning to lighten and Mary feels Lilith’s heart beat. They take a deep breath, as one. They exhale, as one._

_“So did the Tarask reset the score to zero or what?” Mary asks._

_“_ Love _, Mary.”_

_“Yeah.”_

**Author's Note:**

> The cartwheels I had to do to keep this canon-compliant...
> 
> I rarely write anything for any fandom, and I don't think I have _ever _written something this long or complicated before. If you've come this far, I hope you've enjoyed!__
> 
> _  
> _You can find me on tumblr @leftpawedpolarbear, which is also my name in the (in)famous WN Discord ;)__  
> 


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